


And if you call for me, you know I'll run

by iceribbongirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, F/F, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Sad, but better, margaery comforts her, sansa finds out about the red wedding, they fall asleep together, well not super happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7374064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceribbongirl/pseuds/iceribbongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She couldn’t stop crying. How could this happen again? First father, her dear, honorable, brave, father, then Arya, whose body still hadn’t been found and might still be alive if Sansa hoped hard enough, and then Bran and Rickon, her sweet, unassuming younger brothers, and now Robb and mother. Almost as if on cue, she became aware of the door opening. Sansa looked up, expecting to see Tyrion. But it wasn’t Tyrion. It was Margaery Tyrell, beautiful in the dying sunlight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And if you call for me, you know I'll run

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song "Old Money" by Lana Del Rey and all characters belong to George RR Martin.
> 
> This is my first ever written and completed fanfic, and Sansaery is one of my all time favorite ships. Please be kind! Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Thank you so much for reading :)

She couldn’t stop crying. There were tears streaming down her face, and she knew she was paler than usual. How could this happen again? First father, her dear, honorable, brave, father, then Arya, whose body still hadn’t been found and might still be alive if Sansa hoped hard enough, and then Bran and Rickon, her sweet, unassuming younger brothers, and now Robb and mother.  
  
She remembered when she was a little girl, and Winterfell had an unusually heavy summer snow. Robb had held her hand and helped to drag her through the snow to the courtyard. There, Sansa sat and watched Robb, Jon, and Theon throw lumps of snow at each other. Robb had looked so gleeful she couldn’t help but lob a ball of snow at his head. Later, after they had finished laughing, Jon confessed if not for Sansa’s longer hair and smaller body, he would have been unable to tell Robb and Sansa apart from a distance. And now Robb, her brave, kind, beautiful older brother was dead too. Gone. Taken by the Lannisters.  
  
And mother. Her dear sweet mother that brushed her hair and told her she loved her. Bitterly, Sansa wondered if any of the people in Kings Landing that had flocked to her when she was to be queen had loved her. She hoped not. She did not want their love. Sansa tried to remember the last time someone had told her they loved her and meant it. She tried to remember the last thing she had said to her mother as she left Winterfell. She tried to remember the exact arrangement of the laugh lines around her mother’s eyes and she realized that she couldn’t. Her mother was gone, well and truly gone, and Sansa, her eldest daughter, couldn’t even recreate her in her head.  
  
She couldn’t stifle the sobs that shook her body anymore. Instead, she drew up her knees and buried her face in her skirts. And for the first time in months, she allowed herself to weep. For Ned, her father taken too early for a crime he didn’t commit. For her mother, brutally murdered trying to defend her brother. For Robb, slaughtered at a wedding that was supposed to be his chance to forge an alliance that would win the war. For Bran, fallen through a window, and impossibly, unbelievably alive, only to be killed by the man he considered a brother. For Rickon, her sweet, innocent little brother. She hoped that he hadn’t lost his childlike wonder before Theon killed him. She cried for Arya, who was probably dead and raped and lying in a ditch at this point. She cried for Jon Snow, her bastard brother on the wall whom she had never been particularly close with. She cried for Maester Luwin, who had served the Starks faithfully to the end, for Jeyne, whom she would never see again, and for Septa Mordane, the closest thing she had had to a mother in this strange new place. She even cried for Theon, for all that he slew her family, he was her brother once, and that made it hurt even more.  
  
And once that was done, she wept for herself. She was abandoned and alone in a strange place, where her life was valued at nothing without her claim. She had been engaged to one monster, and now was married to his disfigured uncle. She was completely, devastatingly alone in the world.  
  
Almost as if on cue, she became aware of the door opening. Sansa looked up, expecting to see Tyrion. He had come by earlier, turning away when she stared at him with tear stained cheeks. Maybe he was back to check on her. But it wasn’t Tyrion. It was Margaery Tyrell, beautiful in the dying sunlight. She wore a soft blue gown and her hair cascaded down her back in long curls. Sansa had never seen anyone more beautiful.  
  
Without a word, Margaery sat down next to Sansa, and started rubbing her back. Sansa was truly sobbing now, in great gasping breaths. Somewhere in the corner of her mind, Sansa realized she must be hideous with her tangled hair, red tear-stained face, and running nose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t care about something so trivial when her family was dead. Margaery would understand.  
  
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Sansa. I’m so sorry.” Margaery’s voice was soft and rhythmic in Sansa’s ear. She didn’t tell Sansa it would all be ok and Sansa was happy about that. She couldn’t take anymore lies, and she knew that it would never be ok, that nothing in the world could make this ok. But Margaery made it not hurt as much.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
It was only when Sansa stopped crying that she realized the room had gone dark. Her furniture was shadowy and indistinct in the darkness. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Margaery. For some reason, Sansa’s stomach went a little warmer at the thought of Margaery staying with her.  
  
“It’s late.” Sansa could barely recognize her own voice- it was cracked and hoarse, and filled with a sadness that Sansa had never associated with herself.  
  
“Sansa, you don’t have to do that with me.” Margaery’s voice was the sweetest, softest thing Sansa had ever heard. Her every word sounded like a prayer.  
  
“Do what?” Sansa could barely find it in her to care what Margaery thought of her. She was too numb to feel.  
  
“Act as if everything’s normal! I’m not one of those self-interested, conniving people at court! I care about you, Sansa, and you’re not ok. You don’t need to pretend. And you don’t need to distance yourself from your feelings with small talk. I’m here for you, and I’ll listen to you. Anything you say will stay between us.” Margaery’s outburst surprised Sansa. She had never seen the Tyrell girl lose any semblance of control, never seen the raw emotion in her eyes as Margaery leaned forward to grip Sansa’s arms. “Sansa, please.”  
  
Sansa felt herself take a deep, wracking inhalation. Slowly, she picked herself up from the window seat, and dragged herself to her bed. Her fingers trembled as she tried to unlace her gown. Her soul felt raw. Sansa glanced at Margaery, and Margaery must have recognized the pleading, the pure begging in her eyes because for once in her life Margaery Tyrell said nothing and just got up and helped Sansa unlace her gown. Once the gown was off, Sansa crawled into bed. Margaery stood there, gorgeous even in her uncertainty.  
  
“Do you want me to…” Margaery’s voice trailed off.  
  
“Can you stay with me please?” Sansa felt as if her entire body exhaled, not all the way, but maybe just a tiny little bit when Margaery nodded and slipped off her gown, before climbing into bed next to Sansa, clad in only her small clothes.  
  
Sansa didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have because she woke up the next morning to see Margaery next to her. Somehow, her hand had ended up in Margaery’s. Sansa couldn’t remember that happening. In fact, all she could remember after getting in bed was Margaery’s arms around her, and the feeling of being safe, protected, and loved in an embrace, so different from the fear and anger that she felt whenever Joffrey touched her, or the strange mix of pity, fear, and wariness she felt when his uncle touched her.  
  
Sansa wondered if she should wake Margaery up and decided against it. She’d lie here next to Margaery and let Margaery wake up on her own. Just for today, real life could wait.  



End file.
